


First Time

by SailorChibi



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Experienced!Sherlock, First Time, Fluff, Inexperienced!John, M/M, Patient Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-22
Updated: 2012-06-22
Packaged: 2017-11-08 06:58:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorChibi/pseuds/SailorChibi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has finally decided he's ready to take the next step with Sherlock. It's his first time with a man but Sherlock is there to guide him every step of the way. For a prompt on the kink meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Time

**Author's Note:**

> Sherlock belongs to Moffat, Gatiss, and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
> 
> This is for a prompt on the BBC Kink Meme. See: "There's so many fics where John is gentle and reassuring and Sherlock's the uncomfortable one that sex is new to. I'd like to see one where it's the other way around. It's John's first time with a man and Sherlock is every bit tender, loving, caring and remeasuring and ready to stop at any moment."

John Watson never thought he would end up here.

Here, by the way, is on the couch with Sherlock Holmes, which is normal enough even if Sherlock can be a couch hog, but more specifically he means on the couch kissing Sherlock Holmes. And that's not even counting the times when they weren't on the couch but they did quite a bit more than just kiss.

See, John spent a fair part of his teen years having something of a sexual identity crisis after Harry came out to their parents. Or to be fair, his mother spent the years having the crisis for him. She seemed to be petrified that John might be hiding the same tendencies as Harry and at least once a week she would go out of her way to point out that "it's all fine, dear" no matter how much he tried to convince her that he liked women.

Because John does like women. He likes their curves, their softness. He likes cupping a pair of breasts in his hands. He likes holding onto a pair of curvy hips. He likes plump lips and high-pitched giggles and even higher pitched moaning. He likes going down on a woman, likes parting her folds with his tongue to find out what is inside, and he especially likes putting his cock inside, likes the burn and the ohmygodthisisit.

So it may comes as a surprise that John has fallen for his very male flatmate. But in his defence, said male flatmate is Sherlock Holmes. And that's really all the explanation that he feels he needs.

For the most part it's wonderful, even though Sherlock isn't any less of a bastard. He's still cocky, irritating, annoying, selfish, lazy, and inconsiderate. But he's John's, and John is his, and somehow that makes it a bit better. Even the sex has been good. Sherlock has been surprisingly patient and understanding when John needs a moment. He doesn't push, doesn't rush, and John loves him all the more for it.

That's why he pulls back from Sherlock, looks deep into those mercurial eyes, and says, "I'm ready."

It takes less than a second for Sherlock to understand. His lips part and he breathes out shakily. "Are you certain?"

"Yes."

Sherlock's eyes search him intently before he says, "Alright. Bedroom?"

"God yes."

They move upstairs to John's bedroom, which is rapidly becoming their bedroom. John can feel himself becoming harder as he watches Sherlock move ahead of him. God but Sherlock is beautiful. Sometimes he wonders how he ever caught the attention of someone so amazing, and a small part of him fears that Sherlock may grow tired of him someday. He tries not to think about that, tried to focus on the here and now with the man he loves.

"John?" Sherlock's voice calls him back to reality. He's standing in the middle of the bedroom. When he realizes he has John's undivided attention, he begins to un-button his shirt. John walks over to him and takes over, placing a soft kiss on Sherlock's chest with each new swath of skin that is presented. Sherlock sighs and brings his hands up, pulling John in for a deep kiss.

"Sherlock, I'm not sure... I've never done this before," John says when they part.

"I know. You can still change your mind, John. We can do other things or nothing at all," Sherlock reminds him.

John nods. He knows that. But he wants this. He's been thinking about it for a long time. "I'm ready," he repeats.

Sherlock smiles, that warm, tender smile reserved only for John, and helps John to remove his jumper. He tosses it over his shoulder and guides John down onto the bed, kneeling over him. He swoops down, pressing a firm kiss against John's lips before moving lower, trailing kisses down onside of his neck, across his shoulders, up the other side of his neck. John moans at the sensation, featherlight and not enough, and reaches for Sherlock.

"Stop teasing," he says breathlessly, hands finding Sherlock's belt buckle. "Off. Now."

For once, Sherlock does as he's told, pulling off trousers and pants and kicking them to the bottom of the bed. He is nude and John swallows, hardly able to take his eyes away. "I want to touch you," he says.

"Then touch." Sherlock follows his own advice, lowering his head and placing a kiss over John's nipple. He follows it up with a firm swipe of his tongue. John arches into the contact with a soft groan, hands coming up instinctively to slide into Sherlock's dark curls.

"You're bloody good at that."

"Let me show you what else I'm good at." The kisses begin trailing down, but John stops him.

"No. If you do that, I won't be able to last." They were making out on the sofa for a good forty-five minutes before John worked up the courage. He knows that if Sherlock gets anywhere near his cock, he'll come too soon. "Let's just... do it."

Sherlock raises an eyebrow but agrees. "I think it would be best if you penetrated me."

John feels a weight he didn't even know was on his shoulders sliding away. He wants Sherlock, wants every part of him, but he's not sure he's ready to be on the receiving end of things just yet. "What do I do first?" he asks, because although he's researched this on google it can't compare to real life experience and damn it, he wants this to be good for Sherlock.

"We need lubricant," Sherlock says. "Stay here."

He hops off of the bed and disappears out the door. John takes the opportunity to take off his pants and trousers, leaving him naked. He strokes himself softly, gentle touches that only serve to fuel the flames, and waits. Sherlock appears in the doorway moments later and his eyes go all dark and predatory when he sees John.

"I want you to fuck me," he says throatily.

"Fuck," John gasps, releasing his cock immediately. Just hearing Sherlock say that is almost enough to send him over the edge, no additional stimulation required. "Come here."

Sherlock happily complies, sliding into John's arms and kissing him. He pops the lid off of the tube and squeezes a generous amount onto John's fingers. "Easy," he says. "One at a time. You're a doctor, you've done this before."

"I've never done this with a patient," John says wryly, shifting around. The lube is sticky when he rubs his fingertips together. He cautiously brings one hand down and presses a finger to Sherlock's arsehole, watching Sherlock's face closely. Sherlock looks up at him, eyes wide in the way that means he's being honest, and John pushes his finger in.

He's amazed at how easily it slides in, though of course it would, and he wiggles it around curiously. Sherlock feels hot but smooth inside, and it's dry except for the lube on his fingers. Different from a woman, but not repulsive. He twists his finger, trying to rub as much lube around as he can, and slides it in and out a few times. Sherlock sighs softly and presses down against his finger.

"More," he urges. "I've done this before, John. It's okay. More."

John heeds the request, adding a second finger. Here the pressure is a bit tighter in spite of Sherlock's reassurance. Two fingers, though, are definitely better than one. He works them at the same time, sliding in opposite directions to loosen Sherlock up. It's fascinating to see the emotions flash over Sherlock's face and he can't decide which one to watch, that face or his fingers disappearing into Sherlock's pink hole.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he says.

Sherlock groans. "More, John!"

He doesn't seem to loose enough for three fingers so instead John starts trying to find that spot. He's done enough general exams for men to know the general vicinity and what it can do - sometimes being a doctor is helpful after all. It still takes a moment and Sherlock has just opened his mouth again when John crooks his fingers just right.

"Oh fuck!" Sherlock gasps, jumping. "Fuck, I didn't think you would - Fuck!" Again, when John twists his hand and slides against that little bump.

"Ready for three?" he murmurs. Sherlock just groans and John takes that as a yes. He slides three fingers in, trying to memorize where Sherlock's prostate is so that he can hit it later on. He is mesmerized by Sherlock's expression, by the way he jumps, and he realizes that he could easily do this for hours. It feels good, looks good, good enough that he wants to try it himself.

"John, now! Now, oh god, please, now," Sherlock begs, writhing. "If you keep doing that I'm going to come. Oh god, now, please."

"Alright." John removes his fingers carefully and slicks his cock. That much, at least, is self-explanatory. He lines himself up with Sherlock's hole and then hesitates. Because even though he knows his cock will fit, suddenly it seems like a very small hole. And he's not exactly small.

"John."

He looks up.

Sherlock's eyes have turned a warm, silvery green. "It's alright," he says. "Go ahead."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't. Trust me."

And if there's anything John Watson does, it's trust Sherlock Holmes. He pushes forward, gasping out loud as that amazingly tight heat surrounds him. Sherlock groans and keeps groaning as he slides home, until he balls are resting against Sherlock's arse. For a moment the only sound in the room is that of their heavy breathing, both of them trying to keep calm.

"Christ," John gasps raggedly. "You're... so fucking tight..."

"Thank you," Sherlock says. His head has fallen back, revealing his beautiful neck. John yearns to lean forward and kiss it, but if he does the friction may be too much. "When you're ready."

John isn't sure he'll ever be ready - if he could freeze time at this second he would - but his body disagrees with a gentle snap of his hips. Sherlock whimpers and John likes that, wants to hear more of it. He pulls back until he's almost out entirely and then pushes forward, setting up a steady rhythm as he experiments with angles, trying to find...

There.

Sherlock's back arches and he cries out. "John!"

And nothing, no woman anywhere, could ever compare with hearing his name spoken in that tone by that voice.

John moans. "Sherlock, holy fuck, I'm so close."

Sherlock is gasping. "Oh god, oh god, oh god." He wraps his hand around his cock and begins to pull, quick, long strokes that end with his thumb running over the slit. A strangled whimper bursts free. "John, oh god, John, I'm going to come. John, fuck, I love you. John, please..."

It's not in John's nature to deny Sherlock anything. He groans deep in his throat - "Sherlock, holy fuck, I love you too" - and snaps his hips forward as Sherlock's hole clenches around him. His balls draw up and he loses it, his body taking over as his orgasm explodes through him. Dimly, he hears Sherlock crying out and lifts his head in time to see the look of pleasure wash over Sherlock's face, see his eyes go completely silver as his mouth drops open.

It's intense. Too intense. John feels boneless by the time his cock stops pulsing. He pulls out slowly and Sherlock whimpers again as John falls onto the bed beside him and stares up at the ceiling. He feels... amazed. Honoured. All of his secret little fears about whether he'd like it and will Sherlock might leave him and will this work out have jumped out the window. This is everything he didn't know he wanted.

A cloth is swiped over his cock and he opens his eyes to see Sherlock cleaning them both up. "Alright?" he asks cautiously.

John smiles lazily and reaches up to pull him into a kiss. "I'm perfect. Thank you, Sherlock, for being so patient with me."

Sherlock just shrugs and lies down with his head on John's shoulder. John tucks an arm around him and closes his eyes, feeling more content than he ever thought possible.


End file.
